كَمhow many ليfor me عَلىfor كاظِمَةٍKazimah مِنof أَنَّهa moan
كَم لي عَلى كاظِمَةٍ مِن أَنَّه
شَوقاًlonging إِلىtoward شادِنِهاits fawn ذيpossessing الغُنَّهthe nasal resonance
شَوقاً إِلى شادِنِها ذي الغُنَّه
How many a moan I have for Kazimah,
How much yearning in my heart for her of Kazima
yearning for its nasal-voiced fawn.
For her alluring meadow of melodious song
إِنif هَزَّsways مُعتَلُّlanguid الصَباthe east wind غُصونَbranches باstart of 'moringa trees'
إِن هَزَّ مُعتَلُّ الصَبا غُصونَ با
ناتٍend of 'moringa trees' دَنَتthey dipped low بِالوُرقِwith the gray doves مرجَحِنَّهdrooping heavily
ناتٍ دَنَت بِالوُرقِ مرجَحِنَّه
If the languid east wind sways the branches
When the youthful morning breeze stirs the boughs
of moringa trees, they dip, weighed down by gray doves.
Of the bending, leafy bana tree, I fear their burning
إِذاwhen شَدَتthey sang أَجَبتُهاI answered them بِزَفرَةٍwith a sigh
إِذا شَدَت أَجَبتُها بِزَفرَةٍ
مِنfrom حَرِّهاits heat أَخشىI fear حَريقَهُنَّهtheir burning
مِن حَرِّها أَخشى حَريقَهُنَّه
When they sing, I answer them with a sigh,
My heart burns from the torrid breath of passion
whose heat makes me fear they will burn.
The day the guide directs us toward their abodes
واalas كَبديmy liver مِنfrom حَرِّthe heat of أَنفاسِthe breaths of الهَوىlove
وا كَبدي مِن حَرِّ أَنفاسِ الهَوى
يَومَthe day حَداdrove by chanting الحاديthe camel-driver بِعيسِهنَّهwith their pale camels
يَومَ حَدا الحادي بِعيسِهنَّه
Woe to my liver from the heat of love's breaths,
Stay, O guide! Grant me a boon from you
the day the camel-driver sang their pale camels onward!
Yet you trespass against me and show no favor
قِفstop أَيُّهاO الحاديthe camel-driver تُقَوِّyou will strengthen مُنَّةًstrength
قِف أَيُّها الحادي تُقَوِّ مُنَّةً
مِنّيof mine وَتَعتَدَّand reckon لَدَيَّwith me مِنَّهa favor
مِنّي وَتَعتَدَّ لَدَيَّ مِنَّه
Stop, O camel-driver; restore the strength
If only you could see me while the doves are cooing
in me, and count it a favor I owe you.
And the sandgrouse are crying and the oryx herd lowing
فَلَوso if only تَرانيyou could see me وَالحَمامُand the doves الورقُthe gray ones وَالand the
فَلَو تَراني وَالحَمامُ الورقُ وَال
نِياقُshe-camels وَالحُداةُand the camel-drivers تزجيهِنَّهurge them onward
نِياقُ وَالحُداةُ تزجيهِنَّه
If only you could see me, with the gray doves and the
I moan, the doves coo, the sandgrouse cry
she-camels, and the drivers urging them onward:
The oryx low, each expressing its inner woe
ليfor me أَنَّةٌa moan وَلِلحَمامِand for the doves رَنَّهa ringing cry
لي أَنَّةٌ وَلِلحَمامِ رَنَّه
وَلِلنِياقِand for the she-camels الواخِداتِthe swift-striding ones حَنَّهa yearning cry
وَلِلنِياقِ الواخِداتِ حَنَّه
I have a moan, and the doves a ringing cry,
Your disdain hurts more than their suffering
and the swift-striding she-camels a yearning cry.
Memory stirs me to weep, and weeping is incumbent
فَعَكسُso the reversal of عَذلٍreproach مِنكَfrom you لَذعٌa burning sting فيin الحَشاthe entrails
فَعَكسُ عَذلٍ مِنكَ لَذعٌ في الحَشا
أَحَرُّhotter مِنthan لَوعاتِthe burning pangs of صَدِّهِنَّهtheir rejection
أَحَرُّ مِن لَوعاتِ صَدِّهِنَّه
So your reproach, reversed, is a sting in my entrails,
I who beheld the houris in the meadow
hotter than the burning pangs of their rejection.
Like heaven's fairest upon the backs of the oryx herd
تَهيجُنيstirs me الذِّكرىremembrance فَأَبكيso I weep فَعَلَيso upon
تَهيجُني الذِّكرى فَأَبكي فَعَلَي
يَme الذِّكرُremembrance فَرضٌa duty وَالبُكاءُand weeping سُنَّهa customary observance
يَ الذِّكرُ فَرضٌ وَالبُكاءُ سُنَّه
Remembrance stirs me, and I weep; for me,
The family are an ocean, the camels ships
remembrance is a duty, and weeping a customary observance.
The ladies pearls within their shells
أَناI الَّذيwho رَأىsaw بِعَينَيهِwith his two eyes عَلىupon الthe
أَنا الَّذي رَأى بِعَينَيهِ عَلى ال
نِياقِshe-camels فيin الحُدوجِthe howdahs حورَhouris الجَنَّهParadise
نِياقِ في الحُدوجِ حورَ الجَنَّه
I am he who saw with his own eyes, upon the
The gazelles slay us with their eyes
she-camels, in the howdahs, the houris of Paradise.
Like the white of an egg when smiling in the dark
وَالآلُand the mirage بَحرٌa sea وَالمَطاياand the mounts سُفُنٌships
وَالآلُ بَحرٌ وَالمَطايا سُفُنٌ
وَهُنَّand they دُرٌّpearls فيin مَحارِهِنَّهtheir oyster shells
وَهُنَّ دُرٌّ في مَحارِهِنَّه
And the mirage is a sea, and the mounts are ships,
They scent the night with musk and darker ambergris
and they are pearls within their oyster shells.
Speak to me, my friend, of them, entrance me
جَرَّدَتِunsheathed الظِباءُthe gazelles مِنfrom أَجفانِهاtheir eyelids
جَرَّدَتِ الظِباءُ مِن أَجفانِها
بيضَgleaming-white الظُباblade edges تَقتُلُناthey kill us بِهِنَّهwith them
بيضَ الظُبا تَقتُلُنا بِهِنَّه
The gazelles unsheathed from their eyelids
And speak again of their tale
gleaming-white blades, with which they kill us.
إِذاwhen اِبتَسَمنَthey smiled فيin الدُجىthe darkness فَغَمنَthey filled with fragrance بِالwith the
إِذا اِبتَسَمنَ في الدُجى فَغَمنَ بِال
مِسكِmusk الفَلاthe wilderness وَاِنجابَتِand lifted الدُجُنَّهthe gloom
مِسكِ الفَلا وَاِنجابَتِ الدُجُنَّه
When they smile in the dark, they perfume with
musk the wilderness, and the gloom lifts.
حَدَّثتنيyou told me ياO صاحِfriend عَنهُنَّabout them فَقَدand indeed
حَدَّثتني يا صاحِ عَنهُنَّ فَقَد
أَطرَبتَنيyou delighted me أَعِدrepeat حَديثَهُنَّهthe account of them
أَطرَبتَني أَعِد حَديثَهُنَّه
You told me, my friend, about them, and have indeed
delighted me; repeat the tale of them.
Partial English translation: 23 of 28 Arabic lines translated.